


Tessellate

by AK_Vintage



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e04 The Crocodile, F/M, Fluff, Post-Curse Storybrooke, Romance, Rumbelle Christmas in July, Rumbelle Christmas in July 2015, Set in a fictional season 2 sometime after, Smut, Tipsy Belle, Woobie Rumple, alcohol consumption, rcij, thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:46:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4418135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AK_Vintage/pseuds/AK_Vintage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumbelle Christmas in July 2015 gift for JunoInferno</p><p>The damage from a rather vicious thunderstorm causes the entire town of Storybrooke to lose power. When Rumplestiltskin shows up on Belle’s doorstep with emergency supplies, she encourages him to push the boundaries of their tentative new relationship. Featuring candle-lit Scrabble, a tipsy librarian, and sexy hide-and-seek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JunoInferno](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JunoInferno/gifts).



> Original prompt from JunoInferno: "Rumbelle, rainy day, competition" 
> 
> Note: This work will be in five parts - all of them qualify as a T rating with the exception of Part Four. Hence the E rating overall. :)

_tessellate_ – _v._ **tes** - _uh_ - **leyt** , to form of small squares or blocks, as floors or pavements; form or arrange in a checkered or mosaic pattern

* * *

It had been raining for weeks.

Well, perhaps not _weeks_ , but it certainly felt as though it had been that long to Rumplestiltskin as he carefully exited his black Cadillac and was promptly drenched by the icy, late-fall torrent. This thundering deluge had set itself upon the town of Storybrooke less than two days ago, and already it had done almost as much damage as the wraith had done not long ago. Trees were losing limbs and foliage at an alarming rate, the street was full of debris that had been picked up from open dumpsters and toppled trash cans, and the outdated power lines wiring the city’s electric supply hadn’t stood a chance. It had taken hours for sparks to stop flying from the frayed lines and spraying from every breaker box lining Main Street, and more than one telephone pole had collapsed into the side streets.

For his part, Rumplestiltskin had been sitting by the fireplace in his great pink house on the outskirts of town when every light flickered ominously and fizzled out. Luckily, Mr. Gold had been a rather meticulous man who not only was well prepared with supplies for such emergencies but also was accustomed to his creature comforts; moments later, he had heard the whir of the backup generator kick in from the cellar. The lights had sputtered back to life again but not before it occurred to Rumple that while he had the luxury of electricity no matter what kind of inclement weather Mother Nature decided to throw at him, there were others in town that were not so fortunate.

Belle was one of them.

The rest of the town could go hang, as far as he was concerned, but her…

He had lost track of just how long she had been living in the little caretaker’s apartment above the library, but he did know that the building was old and still in a mild state of disrepair in spite of his pulling every string he had with the town council trying to get it up to code. It was one of the few buildings in town that he had no real control over, and although he was pleased that Belle seemed to be blossoming under her new-found independence, he would have done anything to make the place safer for her. The electrical wiring was shoddy, the walls were thin and poorly insulated, he had heard reports of roof leaks in the past, and Rumplestiltskin knew as surely as he knew his own name that with as cold and as gusty as it had gotten in the last 36 hours, Belle would be absolutely miserable without any heat.

And that thought – that his darling Belle would be all alone, in the dark, in her rickety little apartment above the drafty old library, slowly getting colder and colder as the most vicious thunderstorm that Storybrooke had seen in recent memory raged outside – was what had led him to be standing outside the library in the middle of the downpour with one hand wrapped tightly around his cane as he tried desperately to balance the weight of the heavy cardboard box he was pulling from out of the back seat.

As he wrestled with the box and tried not to slip in the rushing stream of rain water coursing along the curb, he wished, not for the first time, that he hadn’t been too afraid to simply invite her to _his_ home (which was rather snug and dry and comfortable, if he did say so himself) rather than slogging through the downpour and praying to whatever deity was currently in fashion that he would manage to avoid getting struck by lightning. As it was, he couldn’t be certain that such an invitation wouldn’t violate the boundaries of their tentative new courtship.

And that really was the best word for their relationship as it currently stood: a courtship. Rumplestiltskin had settled in for the long haul, intent on wooing her again, properly this time, showing her little by little that he truly was changing and that it was all for her. They’d been progressing rather slowly – taking it one hamburger at a time, one stroll along the shore at a time, one gentle, chaste kiss at a time. Belle hadn’t set foot in the pink house since he had given her the key to this place, just as he hadn’t set foot _her_ home, and Rumplestiltskin refused to do anything that would make her feel obligated to return to their shared space before she was ready. No, no matter how much he wished that his favorite suit and dress shoes weren’t getting soaked and that his ankle wasn’t protesting mightily against his awkward handling of the box, it had been right to come here.

However, in spite of his good intentions, there really was no getting around the wisp of magic he was forced to fling at the door, unlocking and opening it for him. He couldn’t have managed a key and the door handle at that moment if he’d tried.

One last flick of his fingers and a brief but perilous ride up the ancient elevator in the pitch black had Rumplestiltskin standing in a narrow hallway on the second floor. A bit of gray light filtered in from a window at the end of the hallway, but it was still rather difficult to see clearly. There were three doors on this floor, and as he contemplated which one could be hers, he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Really, he should have known.

A sweet little ball of warmth blossomed in his chest as he took in the sight before him. A tiny nail, barely large enough to be worthy of the name, had been shoved into one of the doors and was sagging piteously under the weight of the most festive fall wreath he had ever seen. Moreover, a welcome mat sat in front of it depicting a rather cheerful cartoon witch hunched over a massive black cauldron. The steam roiling off the cauldron formed a wispy message that entreated him to “come in for a spell,” and Rumple couldn’t quite manage to hold in his chuckle. His Belle truly was the most precious creature in any world, he thought as he knocked on the door.

Rumplestiltskin was still grinning faintly when the door swung inward, the oversized wreath swaying dangerously on its feeble support. Belle, however, was grinning wider.

“Rumple!” she cried, launching herself into the hallway and throwing her arms around his neck. “Well, this is a pleasant – oh, gods! You’re _soaking_!”

“Well, it _is_ raining, my dear, in case you hadn’t noticed,” he rumbled into her hair, which she had piled onto the top of her head in an artless bun that had delicate tendrils tickling his cheek. Just as he thought perhaps he should attempt to hug her back with at least one arm, Belle pulled away and fixed him with a mockingly stern glare.

“I’m not the one who forgot their umbrella, now am I? Perhaps it’s you that ought to have noticed.” In the shadows, Rumplestiltskin could barely make out the little twist of her lips, the one that made her look like she was trying to swallow her smile. Her fingers had tangled themselves in the dripping ends of his hair, and she pulled on them playfully. In spite of the chill and the icy rivulets of rainwater making their way into his collar and down his back, he felt as though he could start purring at any moment. Like some sort of temperamental housecat that only forgot its irritation whenever its owner scratched behind its ears.

He was saved from any sort of embarrassing display, however, for at that moment, Belle seemed to finally notice the box balancing precariously under his arm. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see – what’s all this?” she asked, disengaging fully from his embrace and reaching to take it from him.

Rumplestiltskin felt the beginnings of a blush rise high on his cheeks as he passed her the cardboard package. It had been a rather impulsive decision, he supposed, toting all of this all the way over here, and he hadn’t really stopped to think how Belle might interpret his gift. Suppose she thought that he didn’t think she could take care of herself? Suppose she thought he doubted her independence? But before he could begin to stammer an excuse, Belle was flipping open the lid and rummaging through its contents all on her own.

“Oh! Candles! And blankets! And are these…flashlights?” She glanced up at him uncertainly, seeking confirmation that she had used the right word. He knew that she spent every spare moment she could researching the technological advancements of this world, trying tirelessly to make up for her lack of false memories. Rumplestiltskin nodded and smiled encouragingly, and Belle beamed in response.

“Rumple, this is wonderful! Thank you so much!” He released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. She was pleased! “I’ve only got two or three candles of my own, you know. I never thought I’d need them, not with the electricity! And the cold!” She shuddered, though whether for effect or out of genuine chill he wasn’t sure. “I think I was doing rather well until the wind started picking up again, but it does get a bit drafty up here. I was afraid I was going to have to start piling on layers!”

Belle laughed good-naturedly, and Rumple had the ridiculous, fleeting thought that if she kept smiling like that, she would have no need of candles or flashlights – she could light the place all on her own. Instead of giving voice to that thought, he chose something a bit less colorful. “There’s also a little space heater at the bottom,” he said, reaching into the box and pushing aside the pile of soft tartan blankets so she could see the thing. It was about the size of an average toaster with vents on one side and a battery pack on the other. “You don’t need to plug it in. Just press the button on the top if you get too cold. It’s only good for one room, really, but… Well, I wasn’t sure how long it would be before the power came back – couldn’t have you freezing to death.”

Belle was smiling warmly at him when he looked up from the box. “This is perfect, Rumple, truly. Thank you for thinking of me.”

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “I’m always thinking of you, sweetheart.”

It was difficult to tell in the gloom, but Rumplestiltskin thought she might have blushed at that. “Charmer,” she murmured, rising up on her tip-toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He sighed at the contact and brought his now-free hand up to cup her face softly, not holding her to him but simply allowing his fingers to rest on her skin. She was cool to the touch but not as cold as he, and he resisted the urge to press himself closer and seek out more of her warmth.

There was a time, not long ago, when he had been convinced that he would never again be permitted to touch her at all, let alone feel her petal-soft mouth against his. And he’d made a commitment to himself, when Belle had extended the olive branch that was an invitation to Granny’s for hamburgers, that he would surrender control of their relationship to her as much as he was able. He would allow her to set the pace, allow her to determine the boundaries. So no matter how he hungered to taste her more deeply or to pull her soft body against his as he once had, he contented himself with just this. Chaste kisses, gentle touches. It was enough. He could wait for more.

Belle was shivering as she fell back onto her heels. “You’re absolutely frozen,” she lamented, cupping her free hand around his where it gripped his cane. She tugged on him and backed toward the door to her apartment. “Come in, we’ll get you warmed up.”

“A-are you sure, love?” Rumplestiltskin hesitated, remaining firmly rooted to the spot. She’d never invited him inside before. “I hadn’t thought – that is, I don’t want to intrude – ”

Her protest was swift and insistent. “Nonsense! You’ll catch your death before you even get back downstairs! And I can’t imagine what the cold is doing to your ankle!” Belle tugged at him more firmly, and he staggered forward, following her into the dark little flat. “C’mon then. Just let me put this stuff down, and then I’ll try to find something for you to change into.”

Belle hadn't been exaggerating when she said she didn’t have much in the way of candles – three meager lumps of dripping wax sat sputtering away on an old-fashioned dinner plate in the middle of her tiny dining table, and the light they gave off was barely enough to prevent Rumplestiltskin from tripping over the carpet runner laid out just inside the doorway. Belle seemed unbothered by the virtual blackness – she simply headed in the direction of what he presumed was the living room (judging by the vague outline of a sofa and an armchair he could just barely make out) and carefully set the box down.

“There,” she sighed, seemingly satisfied. “Would you mind getting some of these lit?” She gestured to the box. “I’m going to go see what I’ve got that might fit you.”

“You really don’t have to, Belle, I can make do with these – ” he protested, but just as he said so, he noticed the steady patter of water dripping from his jacket and onto the floor. Rumple looked down at himself sheepishly – he was standing in a puddle that extended all the way ‘round his body, and it was only getting bigger. Belle giggled, pressing her lips together tightly to keep from grinning.

“You were saying?” Her eyebrow arched knowingly.

He grimaced and nodded, his hair swinging and dripping into his collar again. “Very well.”

“That’s what I thought. Matches are on the table. I’ll just be a minute,” she promised, and disappeared down the dark hallway.

With a deep sigh, Rumplestiltskin cautiously picked his way over to the little dining table, clearly second-hand and only big enough for two, and snatched up the matches. He was sure he made a rather ridiculous picture when, in an attempt to keep them from getting damp, he held them out from his body between his thumb and forefinger as he headed into the shadowy living room, leaning heavily on his cane. Carrying a heavy box with one arm had probably not been a very wise decision; the strange angle at which he had been forced to hold his body had taken its toll on his ankle, and as Belle had said, the cold certainly wasn’t helping. He was gritting his teeth by the time he found the coffee table where she had placed his gift.

In spite of his protestations, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of relief at the prospect of warming up and getting a bit of rest while he was here. One hour, he told himself. One hour and no more.


	2. Part Two

By the time Belle returned from rummaging around in her wardrobe, Rumplestiltskin had managed to light all of the candles, and they merrily flickered away, all different sizes and colors, from every surface of the main living space. He’d also settled the space heater in the corner and angled it in toward the room, its heating elements throwing off a ruddy glow all their own. The blankets he had piled onto both ends of the sofa and stacked in the armchair, covering almost every inch of the worn floral fabric in soft tartan. The overall effect was that of a cozy little hideaway, deeply inviting and full of warmth as the sound of thunder continued to echo ominously outside.

Belle was grinning broadly as she stepped into the circle of the candles’ glow, their golden, dancing light flitting becomingly over her petite form. For the first time, he was able to take in her attire – an oversized sweater the color of fresh cream, black leggings that hugged every curve of her comely legs, and a pair of ridiculously fuzzy, bubblegum pink socks. The little ball of warmth that had taken up residence in his chest burned a bit brighter. How was it that he, a withered old villain, could be so lucky as to claim the love of one so lovely?

“This is wonderful, Rumple! I love it!” she praised, her eyes glittering in the candlelight. She had a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and what appeared to be a heather gray sweatshirt draped over one arm and was dabbing at herself with a hand towel. “This is all I’ve got, I’m afraid – they’ll probably be a bit small on you, but it’s better than being soaked to the skin, I suppose. And there’s a towel for your hair, as well.”

Rumplestiltskin acknowledge the offering with a smile, taking the bundle of cloth from her. The scent of rosewater and lavender and the vanilla soap she preferred in this world washed over him, and he had the fleeting thought that that familiar perfume could do more to warm him up than a thousand candles ever could.

He was certain he looked rather silly, standing there in the silence as he tried desperately not to seek out more of her fragrance in the folds of her clothes, but rather than laughing at him, Belle looked at him expectantly, rocking back and forth on her heels in a sweet, childish gesture of impatience. He frowned. Was there something he ought to be doing? What was she waiting for?

“Everything all right, love?” he asked, puzzled. Her expression shifted from sweetly expectant to confused, the space between her brows furrowing, and Rumplestiltskin watched as she quickly ran her gaze from his head to his feet and back again.

“Aren’t you going to change?” she said. The sound of rainwater dripping onto the floor once again caught his attention.

“Of course,” he replied slowly. She blinked up at him. “Would you, erm… That is, could you show me to your bathroom?”

Belle’s eyes widened, and had the light been better, Rumplestiltskin would have sworn that her face turned tomato-red. “Oh! Right! Of course, yes – the bathroom. Bit of privacy. Right,” she stammered, quickly averting her gaze. “It’s, uh, down the hall, second door on the left. Erm, here – ” She grabbed one of the flashlights out of the bottom of the box and thrust it at him. “– take a flashlight, it’s dark.”

She was refusing to meet his eyes, her gaze darting all over the room and landing on everything but him, and biting her lower lip with such ferocity that Rumple worried for a moment that her little white teeth might break the delicate skin. What was the matter with her? Had he said something wrong? Anxiety roiling in his stomach, he took a tentative step toward her.

“Belle – ” he began, but she didn’t let him finish.

“Go on, then, silly man. You’re dripping all over the place.” Her teasing was forced, her smile tight at the corners. She looked…hurt? Embarrassed?

What could she possible have to be embarrassed about?

“Of course. I’m sorry,” he replied, and proceeded to stumble down the hallway and into the bathroom.

This room was even more cramped than the living space, he mused, as he set the flashlight on the counter and proceeded to strip off his sodden three-piece suit, hanging the pieces over the shower curtain rod to dry. He tried to concentrate on not allowing his hands to shake as he tackled the buttons on his dress shirt, but no matter how intensely he focused, he couldn’t seem to forget the strange look on Belle’s face as she handed him the clothes. She had expected him to do something that he hadn’t done, and she’d been surprised and embarrassed – he would go so far as to say mortified – when he had asked for the bathroom. What had she been thinking?

“Bit of privacy,” she’d said. Bit of privacy. Of course, that wasn’t it at all. He and Belle had spent several blissful weeks living together in his big pink house before he had managed to drive her away again, and during that time, they’d made love more times than he could count. He had no need of privacy with her – he’d never been more comfortable with another person than he was with Belle. He just hadn’t wanted to make _her_ uncomfortable. She had given no indication that she wanted to reintroduce any sort of…physical intimacy into their relationship. He had no intention of inflicting his naked self upon her when he wasn’t wanted.

Rumplestiltskin paused, one leg in the pajama pants and one out.

When he wasn’t wanted.

Belle’s expectant face. The way she had looked at him like she was waiting for him to do something. Her surprise when he asked to change elsewhere.

She’d been _hurt_. Because she thought _he_ was uncomfortable. That _he_ didn’t want _her_.

Oh, gods. He was an idiot.

In a rush, Rumplestiltskin finished tugging on the pajamas (which weren’t a bad fit in the waist but were several inches too short in the legs) and the sweatshirt (definitely snug), quickly toweled off his hair, and grabbed the flashlight. Of all the silly things to have a misunderstanding over… It really was impressive how frequently they failed to communicate with each other.

“Belle?” he called, emerging into the hallway. “Belle, love, I’m so – ”

“In the kitchen, Rumple,” she interrupted. He heard the bang of a cupboard door closing and the rattle of glass. “Thought I’d open a bottle of wine. That’s good for getting warm, right? Want some?” Her voice was high and strained, and Rumplestiltskin winced at the sound, his heart clenching in his chest.

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” he replied, infusing his voice with as much tenderness as he could manage.

When Belle came back into view, she was carrying two rather large glasses of red wine, made the color of ink in the dim glow of the candles. Rumplestiltskin had settled himself on her sofa, his cane resting against its arm and a blanket around his shoulders, but he was only able to truly relax when their eyes met and he saw the corners of her pink mouth curl up in a soft smile of greeting. She seemed a bit happier now, a bit more cheerful. Perhaps he hadn’t screwed up too badly this time.

Releasing a relieved sigh, he returned her smile and patted the space on the sofa next to him.

“Those trousers really work for you,” Belle said, flicking her gaze playfully at his exposed shins and bare feet. She offered him one of the glasses and sat, folding her legs up underneath her body. “Perhaps if you ask nicely, I’ll let you keep them.” Smirking into her glass, she raised it to her lips and drank.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled good-naturedly and took a sip of his own. “How very generous of you.”

Belle snorted as she gathered one of the other blankets around herself, drinking all the while. “I aim to please,” she said. Her eyes flashed cheekily, and he had the vague notion that it was probably that expression, so smart and so defiant and so very full of life, that had planted the first seeds of love in him.

This was all right. He could do this.

From there, the conversation flowed as normal, natural and witty and fluid as anything. It was like they were in the back room of his shop, or behind the circulation desk downstairs, or even in his home – _their_ home – in the sitting room rather than in this drafty, crowded little room in the dark surrounded by dozens of mismatched candles. There was the strange sensation of being outside of time here, with the never-ending rain and the rolling thunder and the flickering flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. Rumplestiltskin felt as though nothing could reach them as long as they stayed insulated from the world, that they were safe here, and he found himself wishing that he could remain on this sofa with her for the rest of eternity.

It wasn’t nearly that long, however, before he was swallowing the last of his wine, and Belle was doing nothing with her long-empty glass but pressing it against her lips, as though hoping that miming the motion of taking a drink would make more appear in the bottom. That knot of anxiety returned to the pit of his stomach. One hour, he had told himself. It had surely been more than that now. Had he been here too long? He had to be getting close to overstaying his welcome. His ankle was feeling much better, he was nearly warm through, and his clothes couldn’t possibly be wringing wet anymore. He could handle a bit of dampness on his drive home, he thought; it was best to leave now before she started to wish that he had.

“Belle, this was lovely,” he said, gesturing to nothing in particular and everything at once. “Thank you for allowing me to prevail upon your hospitality.”

Belle crinkled her brow and tilted her head. “It was nothing,” she insisted. “You’re welcome anytime. Besides, you’re the one who came all the way here in the rain just to make sure I was all right. It’s no trouble at all.”

Rumplestiltskin’s chest felt swollen and warm at her words. Yes, it really would be best if he left before he did anything to upset her again. He was so very good at that, and for the moment, his Belle was happy. He didn’t look forward to spoiling it.

Instead of saying so, however, he simply said, “I’m glad,” and gripped his cane, making to stand.

“Wait – where are you going?” Belle’s hand shot out to cover his, her voice bewildered. “I thought that… Why don’t you have another glass of wine? It will be hours before your suit is dry.”

He grimaced guiltily, refusing to look at her. He knew what he would see if he did – big blue eyes with huge, dilated pupils to accommodate the darkness of the room, candlelight reflected in their depths, gazing up at him with such earnestness that he would never be able to say no. “Thank you, dear, but I’m sure I’ll manage,” he said, his voice hoarse with feeling.

“Oh. You’re…you’re really leaving?” Her voice was small and unsure, and Rumplestiltskin thought that it might have been kinder if she were stab him in the heart rather than speak to him in that voice. “But we were having such a nice time! You’re not…intruding or anything. Honestly. I-I like having you here, Rumple.” She trailed off, squeezing his hand a bit harder, the pressure stopping him in his tracks. “We could play a game, if you like. Ruby gave me a bunch of old board games Granny didn’t want at the inn anymore – I’ve got chess and checkers and this one called Scrabble that I haven’t tried yet but looks really interesting. Just one game?”

Rumple released a bone-deep sigh and shook his head. “Belle, I – ”

“Sometimes.... Sometimes it gets lonely. Here all alone,” she said. “If you’ve truly got places you need to be, I understand. But if not…I’d like it if you’d stay.” He swallowed and stiffened. “I know you don’t believe me when I say that I enjoy spending time with you – I can see it in your face. I wish that you would.”

His heart thudded thickly against his ribcage at that. How very like his darling Belle – she’d always been so perceptive. Slowly, he turned to her, taking in her bright, sad eyes and her upturned brows and her ruby mouth, stained dark with wine. How could she stand to be so open all the time, so vulnerable and trusting? The idea was nothing short of terrifying to Rumplestiltskin, but that didn’t stop him from melting under her gentle gaze.

Perhaps…perhaps staying a bit longer wouldn’t hurt…

“Very well then,” he said at length. “Just one game.”

If he had been looking at it too directly, the brightness of Belle’s answering grin could have blinded him. “Great! And, since you’re already up, you can fetch the wine.” The tip of her little pink tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth, and Rumple felt a rush of heat color his face and neck.

He wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.


	3. Part Three

A few hours and the remainder of the wine bottle later found Rumplestiltskin sitting spread-kneed on the sofa with his elbows on this thighs, leaning precariously over the coffee table as he examined the tiles spread out before him. His wine glass sat abandoned off to the side, still half-full on its third serving; the first two and half glasses had set his blood humming pleasantly, but he had no desire to become completely intoxicated in front of Belle when their relationship was still so tenuous and fragile. The smallest thing could send them careening toward disaster, and after his multiple near-cock-ups from earlier that evening, he refused to be the cause of any more distress.

It seemed that Belle, however, couldn’t have been any farther from distress – indeed, she was downright giddy, sprawled out on the floor on the other side of the coffee table. She was nestled happily in a tangled pile of blankets, looking absolutely adorable with her mussed hair more out of the bun than in it and only sitting up to take another sip of glass number three or to formulate her next move. They had passed his promise of “just one game” ages ago, and Rumplestiltskin was certain that she hadn’t stopped laughing for more than a minute since. The effect was contagious; he didn’t think that his cheeks had ever hurt from smiling so much.

“Go on, then, Rumple, it’s your turn,” she giggled, snuggling down into her little tartan cocoon once more, her pink socks peeking out of the end. “Give it your best shot.”

“Don’t I always?” he replied, feigning offense. His remaining letters were not favorable – no combination of them would make anything even close to a word.

“I’m not sure,” she sing-songed. She was nibbling her lower lip, a cheeky grin on her face. “You do know you’re playing Scrabble with a librarian, right? It’s a word game – if there’s anything bookworms know, it’s words. You’ve not got a chance.” 

Rumplestiltskin’s laughter rumbled deep within his chest. “Oh _ho_ , such big talk from such a wee lady!” Grinning wolfishly, he added the letters R, P, H, and U, vertically connecting the O in her “theory” to the M in his “more.”

Belle frowned, looking deeply puzzled as she shot up from her nest and bent to examine the board. “‘Orphum?’” she read. “What in the gods’ name is ‘orphum?’” Her expression when she turned her gaze to him was so incredulous that he could barely hold back the hearty guffaws building in his throat. “Rumple, that’s cheating! It’s not a real word – you can’t just make things up in Scrabble! You have to use real words!”

“Orphum is absolutely a real word, darling,” he assured her, reclining lazily against the back of the sofa and gazing down at her over steepled fingers.

Belle’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I don’t believe you.”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyes widened, having the gall to look affronted at her distrust. “You cut me to the quick, sweetheart! I swear to you, I’m telling the truth. Orphum is a magical substance produced as a by-product of glamour potions.” The smirk he was trying so desperately to suppress began to bleed through his carefully constructed mask. “Rather useful as a cleaning agent,” he added, chuckling.

Belle laughed, falling back into her blankets. “Nothing of what you just said makes sense, and you know it!” she cried, visibly shaking with laughter. “You’re nothing but a sore loser, Rumplestiltskin!”

Smirking impishly, he stretched out his good leg beneath the coffee table and poked her in the side with his bare toes. She gasped and squeaked, contorting wildly in an attempt to get away. “How could I be a sore loser? I never lose.”

“Ha! Right. Of course not.” Belle rolled onto her side, holding her head up with her hand and gazing at him with laughing eyes. “Well, you’re losing now. I refuse to play Scrabble with you anymore if you’re going to cheat.”

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. How exactly had he, of all people, ended up with a True Love with a moral compass that pointed squarely north even when intoxicated? “Fine – if you won’t play Scrabble with me then, my dear, what _will_ you play?”

“I don’t know!” He laughed quietly to himself as she seemed to wrestle with the question. “Hide and seek!”

“Hide and seek?” he scoffed. “I think that might be even easier to cheat than Scrabble. Don’t you think playing hide and seek with a sorcerer is rather unwise? As you say, if I’m such a dishonest player, I could simply turn myself invisible. I could put a tracking spell on you. I could enhance all my senses to find you just by your scent. As a matter of fact, it seems to me that hide and seek might be precisely the _wrong_ game to play with the Dark One if you don’t want him to cheat.”

Belle nodded gravely and turned over onto her back to stare up at the ceiling. “That’s true,” she mused, worrying her bottom lip in thought. “I suppose if I really want you to play honestly, I should offer you some sort of deal – some sort of reward in exchange for your word.”

The idea of Belle rewarding him for anything made Rumplestiltskin’s blood burn in his veins. His desire for her had been steadily simmering away just beneath the surface all evening, but now, with her all sweet and silly and so very happy, he was feeling their recent lack of intimacy even more keenly. Belle delighted him always, but she was particularly delicious like this, and he couldn’t help but conjure up images of what she might look like pressed into her little nest of blankets a bit more firmly, how it might feel to replace her teeth with his around her bottom lip.

Their implicit agreement to content themselves with kisses would keep him from pressing his advantage, but in this moment, he would take anything she would give him.

“I see,” he purred, lightly stroking his foot along her side. “What would you offer me, then, in exchange for my honesty?”

“A kiss.” Her answer was quick, her smile naughty, and Rumplestiltskin felt an answering tug of arousal deep in his abdomen.

“Deal.” He knew he was leering, could feel it in the heaviness of his eyelids, the curl of his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Luckily, Belle didn’t seem to mind, for as she sat up, she kept ahold of his gaze. “And what will you give me if you can’t resist the temptation to peek?” she asked, stretching languidly.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed thickly. “Anything you desire, my dear.” His voice was low and hoarse and heavy with promise. He’d fetch the moon for her if she asked, but he rather hoped that she might request something a bit more…personal.

“Then the deal is struck,” Belle said. Her eyes shone in the sputtering candlelight as she rose to her feet. Picking her way carefully around the table, she leaned down until her face was level with his and placed a soft, lingering kiss on his lips. “Start counting, Rumple. And no.” Another kiss, deeper and with more intent. “Cheating.” One final kiss, this one with a slick hint of pink tongue slipping between his lips, and Rumplestiltskin had to ball his hands up in his own blanket to stop himself from grabbing her ‘round the waist and pulling her down onto his lap.

When she finally pulled away, he found himself unable to open his eyes for a moment, so overwhelmed was he by her presence. He could hear Belle giggling softly, her sweet breath flitting across his face. “Good idea – keep them closed,” she teased. Her fingers curled around his wrist, and Rumple felt his arm raise and his palm come down over his eyes.

“Go on then, love,” he chuckled deeply. “One, two, three…”

A faint squeal sounded from somewhere off to his left, followed immediately by the sound of stocking feet scampering deeper into the apartment. Rumplestiltskin laughed as he counted. This was easily the most ridiculous thing he and Belle had ever done, and he couldn’t help but revel in the childish merriment of it. So much of their relationship had been so very serious lately; it was refreshing to set it all aside for a while and simply _play_ together. Besides, a little friendly competition had never hurt anyone…

“…97, 98, 99, 100.” Rumplestiltskin dropped his hand as his eyes blinked open. “Ready or not…” he murmured under his breath, rising slowly to his feet and gripping his cane. As quietly as he could, he picked up a flashlight and flicked it on, casting the beam in a slow circle around the room. The chances of her having gone far were slim – she may have been rather tiny, and thus had a bit of an advantage when it came to hiding in cramped spaces, but she was also tipsy, and people who had been drinking always seemed to struggle with being quiet. He would have heard if she had been scrambling around in the bathroom or her bedroom looking for a hiding place.

He began by doing a thorough sweep of the main living space, checking behind the arm chair and around the bookshelf, under the dining table and down the hallway. He checked the awkwardly-constructed galley kitchen, peeking in all the cabinets below waist-level and in the oddly large space between the refrigerator and the oven. He swept the beam of his flashlight through the linen closet then ducked into the bathroom, checking carefully behind the lacy shower curtain. There was no sign of her anywhere.

Rumplestiltskin frowned deeply, concern bubbling up in his stomach and turning it sour as he came to stand outside the only remaining room in the apartment: her bedroom. He thought he would have found her by now. He hadn’t really planned on rummaging around in her room without her permission (there was something undeniably personal about entering the space where she slept), but it seemed that she had left him no choice. She must have been hiding in there – there were only so many places a person could hide in an apartment this small. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and crossed the threshold.

It was a rather spartan space, occupied only by a writing desk, another bookshelf, a standing full-length mirror, and a sagging double bed. He carefully shined his light behind the mirror, beneath the bed, and under the desk before glancing quickly in the closet. Nothing – not even a suspicious lump in the disheveled sheets.

In spite of himself, Rumplestiltskin felt his heart begin to beat a bit faster with worry. This was ridiculous – where else could she possibly _be_? Mentally he reviewed the places he had checked, trying to see if there was something he could have overlooked, but there wasn’t. The simple fact was that she had very little furniture and very few belongings in a very small space; there just weren’t enough places she could be hiding to justify his inability to find her. A thick knot of anxiety filled his throat with the irrational fear that something had happened to her, that somehow she had been taken from him. Of course, that made even less sense than the fact that he couldn’t seem to find a grown woman in a four-room apartment, but the fear was there all the same.

“Belle?” he called hesitantly. “You win, love, I give up. You can come out now.”

Nothing but silence answered him.

“Belle? Belle!”

Rumplestiltskin’s heart beat erratically in his chest, his breath coming faster and more urgently. This game had gotten out of hand. He wasn’t in the habit of breaking deals, but suddenly the idea of not being able to find Belle was more abhorrent than he could imagine, and the idea of using magic became increasingly more appealing. Before he could pause to consider it any further, he called up the image of Belle’s face in his mind and laid his hand on the full-length dressing mirror standing in the corner of the room.

“Show me Belle,” he commanded, his hand trembling against the cold glass as he bent the magic to his will. Beneath his fingers, the mirror’s surface rippled and stretched, wavering before him like water before resolving into the image of Belle from earlier, covering his eyes with his own hand.

_“Keep them closed,”_ the reflection commanded, and Rumplestiltskin watched as the Belle in mirror took off down the hallway toward her bedroom, just like he had thought. Giggling softly to herself, she had gotten into her bed and pulled the covers up over her head, balling herself up like a child. However, just as he heard himself hit the 20 second mark from out in the living room, she seemed to think of a better idea, for she sprang back up out of the bed and tip-toed ever so softly out into the hallway.

Rumplestiltskin watched in awe as she crept, completely and utterly silent, back toward the living room, a brilliant grin splitting her face. She looked like she was struggling not to laugh, but somehow she managed to move so delicately that the Rumplestiltskin on the sofa was none the wiser. Noiselessly she crept to the door, twisted the knob, and slipped into the corridor beyond.

Belle had _left_!

The image in the mirror seemed to speed up then, showing brief flashes of Belle in the narrow hall outside her apartment, Belle turning the crank on the door of the elevator and hopping inside, and then finally Belle ascending a brief set of stairs. The mirror’s glass flashed brightly, and with sudden certainty, Rumplestiltskin knew where she was.

Belle was hiding in the clock tower.


	4. Part Four

_That naughty, naughty girl,_ Rumplestiltskin thought as he rode the elevator to the third floor. He had to hand it to her – he had never expected Belle to hide _outside_ of the apartment, and although it had given him a mild heart attack, he could appreciate her ingenuity. After all, they had never said that she _couldn’t_ hide elsewhere. One would think that after so many centuries he would learn to respect the finer points of his own deals.

In fact, by the time he emerged from the elevator and ascended the remaining stairs, he was chuckling to himself, ready to praise her for her cleverness. However, as he stood on the last stair and took in the sight before him, all traces of laughter disappeared. 

She stood before the clock face, seemingly transfixed by the intermittent flashes of lightning and the torrent of rainwater lashing the milky glass. The iron gears and hands of the clock shook inside their chamber each time the thunder rolled, and Rumplestiltskin watched as she shivered in response. She’d dropped the blanket she had been wearing around her shoulders to the floor along with her flashlight, and the effect of its glow from at feet combined with the streaks of white and blue outside made him feel as though he were gazing upon the silhouette of a goddess, great and terrible and beautiful in her otherworldliness.

As hypnotized as she seemed to be by the raging storm, so was he by her. Quietly, so as not to startle her, Rumplestiltskin leaned his cane against the balustrade, set his flashlight on the floor, and crossed the platform to wrap his hands around her hips, pulling her gently back into his embrace.

“I’ve found you,” he murmured into her hair, feeling her giggle softly and relax in his arms.

“You have,” she agreed. He could feel her grin as he brought his chin to rest on her shoulder. “Took you long enough.”

“Yes, well, someone decided to try to fool me. They ought to have known better.”

Belle laughed and turned her face to nuzzle his cheek with her forehead. She was so very wee without her towering heels… “Perhaps you ought to have been more specific with the terms of our deal,” she teased, her voice low and pleasantly throaty. Rumplestiltskin grunted in response, wrapping his arms more securely around her abdomen. “What made you think to look here?" 

He winced and froze. Magic. He’d promised her he wouldn’t cheat with his magic, but he’d been so worried, and now…

“Rumple?” He could feel Belle stiffen in his embrace. “Did you use magic to find me?”

Rumplestiltskin sighed and tightened his grip on her, splaying his fingers across her ribcage. “Yes, I did. I was…concerned,” he admitted, feeling his cheeks heat with a flush. It sounded foolish now, saying it aloud. What exactly had he thought had befallen her? He would have known if she was truly in danger – he would have sensed it. Belle was going to think him ridiculous.

Instead, she dropped a kiss to his jaw and smiled. “I thought you might be. And now you have to give me whatever I desire.” She giggled mischievously and brought her hands up to cover his own.

“You _knew_ this would happen, didn’t you?” Rumple asked, a little incredulous. Another clap of thunder shook the walls of the clock tower, making the clock hands rattle inside their glass casing. Belle shivered and fitted herself more snuggly against his chest.

“No. I hoped it might, though,” she replied. “You left yourself rather open to it.”

At that, he could do nothing but laugh. The sound rumbled through his chest, and he pressed a kiss to her hair. “Yes, I suppose I did, didn’t I? I’m afraid my mind has never been the clearest when it comes to you, love.” He sighed and ran the tip of his nose along the exposed outer shell of her ear. “What do you want from me then? What do you desire?”

Belle’s lungs hitched beneath his hands as her breath caught, and he hazarded a glance at her face. She was still gazing out at the storm, but her eyelids had gone heavy, and her lips were parted temptingly. “You,” she sighed. 

A groan in the form of her name escaped him at that, and he buried his face in her neck, dropping a feverish kiss there as all the blood in his body seemed to rush south, leaving him dazed. This couldn’t be real… She couldn’t _really_ mean… But – their boundaries? Did she _really_ want to – ?

“We don’t have to,” she whispered, derailing his stilted internal dialogue. “I know we said… Well, I know _I_ said that we should take things slow. But…it’s been weeks, and you’ve been such a gentleman, and I…I _miss_ it. I really, _really_ miss it.”

“ _Gods_ , Belle, you’re killing me,” Rumplestiltskin whimpered. His hips ground against her rear of their own accord, and he caught himself lavishing her pale throat with more open-mouthed kisses. She sighed heatedly and tilted her head to allow him better access, and he thanked her by scraping his teeth ever so gently along the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“I think it about it all the time,” Belle gasped, rocking her hips encouragingly back against his. “I lie awake at night missing you, wishing you were here with me. I think about us, the way we used to make love all night long and again when we woke up in the morning. And… _oh!_ And the things you made me _feel_! I never knew… Oh, Rumple, I forgave you _ages_ ago – you know that, don’t you?” 

With a feral growl that felt as though it had ripped from his chest, Rumplestiltskin released his grip on her torso to spin her around and face him. The next thing he knew, he was backing her into the wall next to the clock face, sliding his lame leg between her thighs and pinning her there.

“Be sure, Belle,” he rumbled. He rested his forehead against hers, his heaving chest pressing against her breasts. She was trembling in his grasp, and he couldn’t tell if it was with arousal or with the crashing of the thunder as it ravaged the clock tower. “I need you to be very, very sure. You know I’d never ask for this. I’d wait as long as you wanted. I don’t want you to regret this, I couldn’t stand it.”

Belle was shaking her head before he could even finish speaking, her pupils blown wide and reflecting the icy flash of the lightning just outside. “I won’t regret it, not ever. I’ve missed you so much, Rumple, please – I need you. _Please_ give me you.”

“I’m yours.”

With a pained moan, her hands came up to grip his head and brought his lips crashing down onto hers.

Rumplestiltskin released a ruined sound as her tongue danced across the seam of his lips while her fingers carded through his hair. He allowed her entrance immediately, and suddenly she was _everywhere_ , that slick pink muscle sliding demandingly along his own, reacquainted herself with his mouth and his little secret spots that made him _shake_ so quickly it was almost as though it hadn’t been weeks since she had touched him like this. Except it _had been_ , and everything felt so much sweeter, so much keener, so much _better_ for it.

He could feel his cock hardening quickly in his borrowed pants, and he spared a thought for the fact that although this wasn’t his best look, he had a feeling that what his current attire lacked in style, it would make up for in ease of removal. He wasn’t able to hang onto that thought for long, however, for a moment later, he felt the pressure on his leg increase, and he realized that Belle had begun _grinding against his thigh_.

Rumple wrenched his mouth away from hers and cursed colorfully, his hands sliding beneath her oversized sweater to grip her waist. Trailing wet, sucking kisses along her jaw and down her neck, he pressed her core even more firmly against him, urging her to increase the friction. Belle keened, and her head fell back against the wall, exposing her long, pale throat.

“Is this what you thought about, my Belle? Is this what you thought about late at night in your bed, when you were missing me?” he all but growled into her ear, taking the lobe into his mouth and sucking briefly. “Did you think about me getting you off and how good it felt?”

Belle was panting heavily and scraping her nails along his scalp at the nape of his neck. He could feel her throat working beneath his lips as she struggled to answer. “ _Yes_. I thought about this,” she moaned, breathless.

“What else?” he demanded. His hands had made their way up the silken flesh of her stomach, and he felt her quake beneath him as he firmly massaged her breasts through her bra, paying particular attention to her nipples. Belle had marvelously sensitive nipples; he was sure that they had been hard for him for a while now, aching and needy for his touch.

“I thought about – _ahhh_ , I thought about your mouth. I thought about the way it felt when you…when you kissed me there. When you licked me and – _oh_ , sucked me.”

The words alone would have been enough to drive him wild, but when said in that raw, husky voice, the one she only ever used when she was starting to lose herself completely in pleasure, Rumplestiltskin thought that he may very well lose his mind.

“Where, sweetheart? Here?” The fingers of his left hand swiftly pinched her nipple. “Or _here_?” His right hand released her breast and slid down to wedge between the apex of her thighs and his leg, pressing against her. _Gods_ , she was so hot for him – she was soaking through her leggings!

Belle’s reaction was instantaneous – she bucked wildly into his hand and cried out, squirming in his grip as she sought out more of his touch. “ _Yes_! There!”

His cock was at full attention at the memory of her taste, hard and hot and straining against the flannel of his pajamas. He wasn’t sure how much more of this exquisite torture he could take, but he was eager to find out. “What about _this_?” Rumplestiltskin demanded, rutting his length against her hip. “Did you think about how hard I got for you? How good I felt buried deep inside you?”

“Yes! I thought about it! _Please_ , Rumple, I can’t – I need to – ” Belle was shaking like a leaf, her hips working faster as she dragged her center against his hand over and over again, desperation rolling off of her in waves. He could feel her heat and her wetness through her clothing, and he pressed his fingers more firmly against her, searching for her clit in spite of the barrier. By sheer blind luck, he seemed to find it, for a moment later, Belle’s mouth dropped open, her brows furrowed, and she let out a sharp cry, her body tensing and her nails digging painfully into his shoulders.

“That’s it – that’s it, darling, I’ve got you. Shhh…” he murmured soothingly, running his lips over her cheeks, her forehead, her collar bone as she came down from her high. “You’re so beautiful. Oh, I’ve missed you. _Belle_.”

However, it seemed that Belle didn’t want soothing, for the moment her breath returned to her, she was grabbing two handfuls of his hair and yanking his face back up to hers.

She whined into his mouth, sucking hard on his bottom lip before capturing it with her teeth and biting none-too-gently. “Clothes. Off. Now,” she panted, and Rumplestiltskin was only too happy to oblige.

From there, it was a flurry of fabric and teasing touches and soft moans as they attacked each other’s clothing in their eagerness. The first to go was her sweater, which took her hair tie with it, sending her chestnut curls tumbling down around her shoulders. They managed to work his borrowed sweatshirt off next, getting the rather snug collar caught on his jaw for a perilous moment before tossing it to the floor. Then came her bra – a flimsy, black silk concoction with unformed cups that he _knew_ he would be dreaming about for the rest of eternity. They took a bit of a detour here as Rumplestiltskin buried his face against her soft, pale breasts, once again taking the opportunity to roll her nipples between fingers and cover them with wet little kisses, but after that, they were off and running again.

“Hmmmm, Rumple – I love you so much. You feel _amazing_ ,” Belle whispered conspiratorially as she slid her hands into the waistband of his pants to grip his ass. Her fingers were cold against his flesh, and for the first time, Rumple wondered about the wisdom of doing this in the weather-prone clock tower of a dilapidated library while the storm of the century raged just outside. He hoped she wouldn’t catch a chill from all this, well, _exposure_ in such a drafty place, but Belle seemed completely unbothered – if the flush high on her cheeks and her heaving chest were anything to go by, that was.

Pushing his concerns aside for the moment, Rumplestiltskin covered her hands with his own and helped her pull down his pants and his boxers all in one go. “Not as much as _I_ love _you_ ,” he replied as they hit the floor. Leaning heavily on the wall for balance and to take a bit of weight off of his injured ankle (which would be _raging_ at him in the morning, he was sure), he kicked the bundle of fabric to the side and accidentally covered one of their flashlights.

The image that Belle presented in this new lighting was absolutely breath-taking. She was stunning all the time, of course, but Rumple couldn’t help but pause for a moment in their hurried quest for each other’s bodies to take in the sight of her leaning back against the wall. The remaining flashlight shone from the floor behind them, casting its beam upon their feet and creating an intricate pattern of shadows across her legs and bare abdomen. Outside, the occasional bolt of lightning streaked through the air, their white-blue flashes illuminating her heavy-lidded eyes, her dark, swollen mouth, and her pink-tipped breasts at strange intervals. Thunder continued to shake the thin walls of the tower, and Rumplestiltskin was overwhelmed by the scent of vanilla, ozone, and Belle’s own sweet musk. He was drowning in her, and he never wanted to come up for air.

“My love,” she sighed, running her hands from his shoulders, down over his chest, and then around to grip his rear end once again. “Touch me.”

“ _Yes_.” Her words brought him back to the moment, and he was quick to grip the elastic waistband of her black leggings and pull them down, hooking his thumbs in the sides of her panties as he did so. He managed to work them down to her knees rather quickly, but the clingy fabric made it difficult in this position, and he wished that he could kneel with more ease so that he could extend his reach a bit farther.

It was at that moment, however, that Belle decided she was tired of waiting. Pushing him away, she quickly bent down and began shoving at the garments, trying desperately to coax them down her calves. She managed to work one leg out of the tangle of fabric, but rather than going for the second leg like he expected her to, instead she shot back up, wrapped one hand around his aching cock, and gave him a firm, downward stroke.

“Belle!” Rumplestiltskin cried, bucking into her hand. The temperature contrast in their skin was a bit jarring, but the sweet pressure of her fingers around his thick shaft more than made up for it. Her soft little hand gripped him firmly, her wrist giving her strokes just a little twist as she caressed him. Her thumb slipped daintily over the sensitive head of him on each pass, and he groaned as fluid began to seep from the tiny slit at the tip. “ _Fuck_ – sweetheart, let me be inside you. Gods, _please_ , just let me be inside you.”

Belle whimpered at that, nodding frantically. “Yes,” she begged, spreading her feet a bit wider apart and hitching the leg that was still half-clothed around his hip. Her bunched-up leggings and her soaking panties dangled from her shin, but she seemed as though she couldn’t care less as she used her heel and her hands to drag him closer.

Nearly mindless with arousal, Rumplestiltskin reached down between their bodies to grip his cock, running the length of himself through the folds of her womanhood. She was positively _dripping_ for him, and as another flash of lightning shone through the glass of the clock face, he could see the rather obscene sheen of her juices coating his flushed prick.

“D’you want it, Belle? D’you want me to fill you up? I need you to say it,” he growled, teasing her swollen clit with the head of it. He barely recognized his own voice, deep and primal and thick with his Frontlands brogue as it was. Only with Belle did he ever get like this. Only ever her.

“ _Yes_ – yes, I want it, gods, Rumple, it’s been so long, _please_ …”

With a savage snarl that was swallowed by the thunder, Rumplestiltskin thrust forward, sliding deep within her.

_Oh_ , she was so _tight_ , so hot and wet. They fit together perfectly – like pieces of a puzzle, her softness yielding to his hardness, all curves and angles and _heat_. He took a moment to savor the feeling – she was right, it had been _far_ too long – but Belle didn’t allow him to remain still for more than an instant, for soon she was canting her hips against him and burying her fingers in his hair as she kissed him once more.

Rumple took the hint, bringing one hand up to support her leg while returning the other to play at her breast as he began to move. This position was hell on his ankle – they had only ever made love standing up once before, and it had left him sore for days – but as he thrust into her again and again and _again_ , he soon became numb to any sensation other than pleasure.

“Ohhh, you feel so good,” Belle moaned breathily, pulling away from his lips to bury her face in his neck. “That’s it, that’s perfect – _ah_! Yes” Her inner walls clenched around him as the slick sound of their coupling filled the air, and Rumplestiltskin trembled all the way down to his bones when she sunk her teeth into the sinewy muscle of his shoulder. “More!”

Rumplestiltskin groaned like he was being tortured and snapped his hips forward with more force, burying his cock even harder, even deeper into her hot, welcoming body. He felt as though he were being stretched thin, like his skin was too small for his body and he was in danger of bursting right out of it, but the coil of arousal winding away in his abdomen showed no sign of letting up. It just kept getting tighter and tighter and burning him up from the inside out.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold on.

A thin layer of sweat had broken out along his back, and he felt Belle’s nails scrape through it as he redoubled his efforts, dropping his hand from her breast to play with her slippery wet clit as he thrust into her. “Belle,” he grunted breathlessly. “I need you to come again for me. I won’t last much longer.” He hitched her leg a bit higher on his hip, opening her wider to him, and Belle cried out, her little swollen nubbin pulsating beneath his fingers. His world narrowed and flattened as his heart pounded in his chest, the sound of blood rushing in his ears nearly drowning out her sweet moans. Desperate, Rumplestiltskin ran his tongue over a patch of sensitive skin just below her ear and _sucked_. “Come on, sweetheart. Come for me. Come now.”

Belle’s back arched like a bow, her thighs quaking like mad, and her mouth dropped open in a soundless scream. At that moment, lightning struck, lighting her up at the moment of her ecstasy, and it was like his entire existence had led up to this moment. Her slick inner walls clenched and fluttered around him, wrenching his orgasm from him, and with a sob of relief, Rumplestiltskin lost himself in the thunder as he followed her headlong over the edge.


	5. Part Five: Epilogue

Shuddering and shaking as the last of his rapture moved through him, he became aware of Belle wrapping her arms around his chest and cradling him against her body. She bore his weight as his knees knocked together, murmuring tender, loving words in his ear and gently stroking his back with her fingertips. He felt as weak and as fragile as a newborn foal, and he twitched and panted as his softening cock slipped out of her body. As his ankle began to protest more vehemently, but Rumplestiltskin couldn’t seem to string enough thoughts together to figure out what to do about it. Instead, he simply groaned and shifted closer to her.

“Let’s go back downstairs, Rumple,” Belle whispered after a moment, her throat sounding dry and rough. Gooseflesh had broken out on both of their bodies as their sweat cooled in the chill of the tower, and he shivered as he nodded.

“Let me,” he said, snapping his fingers. A whirl of purple mist enveloped them, and in less than an instant, they were laying swaddled beneath her bedsheets and several of his own tartan blankets, propped up a little on a pair of plump pillows and surrounded by flickering candles. He had moved them all to her bedroom along with the space heater, and Belle chuckled as she took in their change in location.

“All right, Mr. Clever, I think that’s quite enough magic for one day,” she admonished playfully, snuggling closer to him beneath the covers. Her skin was cool and soft against his, and Rumplestiltskin took the liberty of wrapping both of his arms around her and pulling her flush against his chest.

“As my lady commands,” he replied with a smirk. A pleased groan rumbled through his chest as he felt the petal-soft touch of her lips against his collarbone, and he brought up a hand to caress her hair.

Belle grinned, leaning into his touch like a cat. “This was wonderful,” she sighed.

“What? My attempt to rescue you from a power outage when you’ve lived most of your life without the convenience of electricity, or my pouncing on you in a tower with metal walls and a metal floor in the middle of a lightning storm?”

She giggled and smacked his stomach in incredulity. “Hush, you! All _I_ remember is you being the kindest, most considerate gentleman in the whole world by trying to take care of me. And I think you’re forgetting the fact that I _asked_ to be pounced on. You were just…fulfilling your end of a deal.”

Warm, hearty laughter burst from Rumplestiltskin’s lungs at that, and Belle squeaked as he rolled her beneath him. “Yes, I suppose I do recall there being a deal involved. To give you whatever you _desire_ ,” he rumbled, feeling her shudder faintly as he held himself above her. “Second-best deal I ever made.”

“Oh, really? Only _second_ best? I’m hurt.” Belle’s eyes sparkling with mirth as she attempted to twist her face into something resembling offense. “What was the best?”

“The deal that got me you,” he replied, seizing her smiling lips in a kiss. “I made out quite well on that one, if I do say so myself.”

“Flatterer!” she cried, wrapping both her arms and her legs around his body and pulling him down on top of her. “Has anyone ever told you what a cad you are, Rumplestiltskin?”

“Clearly, if ‘cad’ is the only name I have earned for myself over the years, then I’m doing something wrong.” Belle giggled in response, gifting him with another kiss. As she pulled away, however, he looked down at her a bit more somberly and said, “I know you said that you’ve forgiven me, love, but I wanted to tell you regardless how truly sorry I am. I know that…in the past I’ve made you feel as though you can never be as important to me as power, as magic. That’s never been my intention. I’m an old man – sometimes I forget what it is to be loved by another person. I forget that I don’t need magic to make me strong – _you_ make me strong. I spent so long being so weak, Belle, and sometimes I get so afraid – ”

The touch of her lips on his silenced him, and Rumplestiltskin clung to her like a lifeline, trying desperately to pour every ounce of his love and adoration into their kiss. She was so soft beneath him, but her limbs gripped his body with a strength that belied her wee stature, and he felt a hot wave of affection surge up inside his chest, choking his breath.

“I love you so much,” Belle whispered fervidly when they finally broke apart. “So, so much.”

For an interminable amount of time, they lay there in the dim light of the candles, simply holding each other and listening the rain fall. He felt safe there, beneath the covers and snuggly tucked up in her arms, and after a time, he felt sleep begin to tug at the corners of his consciousness. However, just as he was about to nod off against her breastbone, she spoke.

“You know, I wouldn’t be opposed to…discussing the possibility of my moving back in with you, once the weather clears up,” she said tentatively, her voice vulnerable and thick with emotion.

Her words had him pushing back up on his forearms to gaze down at her, his face sagging in disbelief as hope burned brightly in his stomach. “You-you want to come back?” he asked.

Belle’s eyes shone, and she smiled wetly as she nodded. “I want to come _home_ ,” she said.

Rumplestiltskin felt his chin begin to wobble at the devotion shining out of her every pore, and he was quick to bury his face against her skin in an attempt to hide his pathetic reaction to her words. _Home_. She wanted to come _home_. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much,” he gasped, kissing every inch of her that he could reach. _Home._

“Good. We can talk more about it in the morning. Sleep now,” she whispered, carding her fingers soothingly through his graying hair. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin.”

“I love you, Belle,” he replied, rolling off of her only to gather her back against him. He felt her sigh deeply, contentedly against his skin as they both began to drift. Just before sleep took him, he heard the rain begin to slow and soften outside her window.

The storm was over. And in the morning, the world would put itself back together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, so excited to finally present this work to JunoInferno - I have so loved being your Santa! I hope you enjoyed it, my giftee! :D


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